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"The last, dad!" the lad shouted back, pulling in the horse, and,

smiling, he looked round at a bright, rosy-cheeked peasant girl

who sat in the cart smiling too, and drove on.

"Who's that? Your son?" asked Levin.

"My baby," said the old man with a tender smile.

"What a fine fellow!"

"The lad's all right."

"Married already?"

"Yes, it's two years last St. Philip's day."

"Any children?"

"Children indeed! Why, for over a year he was innocent as a babe

himself, and bashful too," answered the old man. "Well, the hay!

It's as fragrant as tea!" he repeated, wishing to change the

subject.